Julia's Journey 1

this is the 9th of 6 planned Charity School books, in which Julia Spencer takes up a position teaching the oldest two of 5 little girls in Suffolk, the children of Sir Henry Harkness, a former neighbour of Lucius Belvoir, governor of the school, horticulturalist and husband of Libby Freemantle, now Belvoir, head preceptress.  Julia and her friend Penelope both came from the cruel school in Oxford, to which Julia had been sent because her ditsy and inadequate mother preferred to believe that a twelve year old little girl would seduce a man grown than that the child's stepfather had only married her to get at her daughter. Julia is learning that not all adults are either cruel or stupid, but life is not going to be easy for her with a selfish  and foolish employer whose elevation by inheritance means that Julia will be expected to transport 5 little girls under the age of 6 on a 4 day journey across country.

Chapter 1

Brexhay House,

Suffolk

Tuesday, September 1^st 1812

My dear Penelope,

I have returned safely to the wilds of Suffolk to take up the post as governess to the little ‘Bells’  and I was much gratified that they chimed most beautifully in pleasure at my return. Now I have been here a week I felt I could write.

First I have to tell you about the most beautiful young man I saw on the way.  I confess I could almost consider it worth seeking romance if only he was living in  the neighbourhood of  the South Elmhams.  It was not far from Bury St. Edmunds, at an inn where we had halted (and oh, how I appreciate being brought in Mrs. Macfarlane’s carriage) for a rest and refreshments rather than wait until we took an inn for the night.  He was tall, with broad enough shoulders that the several capes he had on his greatcoat did not look as foolish as they do on some men who ape the Corinthian look, and  auburn curls so beautifully disarranged  that one itched to get fingers into them to straighten them. As this came with an aquiline profile built on harsh lines but with soft, rather dreamy looking eyes you will understand why my attention was caught. He looked like he should have been painted by Mr. Gainsborough in his youth in a velvet skeleton suit, which those of us who have had anything to do with real children would strongly suspect to be cobbled together behind after failing to survive an encounter with sliding of the stables roof or climbing a tree. He also had what Philippa would describe as a bang-up team of greys .”

“He sounds interesting,” said Philippa.  Penelope giggled.

“She s-said you’d say that as s-soon as you heard about the horses,” she said.

“I bet Philippa took notice  as soon as you mentioned the  horses, and that she commented.  Well, I saw him first though the likelihood of ever seeing him again is vanishingly slim, and if I do he will turn out either to be married or in some other way disappointing.  As I have not even spoken to him, however, I shall think of him as Sir Perceval and not be disappointed in him.

I was not sure how I would cope with returning to a scene of so much gothic horror as was enacted on Miss Freemantle , or Mrs. Belvoir as I should now call her and myself hardly more than a month ago,[1] but I confess I hardly thought about it for the clamour, or perhaps I should say ‘clangour’ of Isabella, Arabella and even Rosabella, who managed a small squeal of delight. Isabella, predictably, after an initial chime of goodwill asked “How do you do, Miss Spencer?” but I am sure I shall manage to break her of such precocious formality.  I have established firmly with Sir Henry Harkness, their father, that  I have no desire to be ‘Spencey’ , which made me think of ‘Incey Wincey Spider’, an association he readily saw and understood.  He was somewhat disapproving of the concept of calling me the ‘Bellringer’ , since he calls his girls the ‘belles’ not ‘bells’ , which name was  Mr. Belvoir’s whimsical idea (and I pray you to pass my best to Mr. & Mrs. Belvoir) and Sir Henry was dubious about me going by my first name, even  though it would not be outside the bounds of possibility  for me to have younger sisters of five years old and under.  Accordingly, I am to go under the soubriquet of ‘La Belle Maitresse’ which will be shortened, no  doubt, to ‘Labby’ which is still better than being a Spencey-wencey spider.

Anyway, you will want to know of my charges. Though I am only teaching Isabella, Arabella and Rosabella, I have offered to take Annabella on nature walks with the older ones, to free the supercilious nursery maid to rest, especially if she  can arrange for this to be when Maribella is sleeping.  I thought it a good idea to be in with the nursery maid.”

“She’s right,” said Philippa, who was reading over Penelope’s shoulder while Penelope read aloud, working on reducing her stutter.

“Wh- what is the p-point of me reading aloud if you only r-read ahead and p-p-pre-empt me?” said Penelope.

“She’s right, twin, leave her to it, she’s doing fine,” said Felicity.

“I was nosy to ... oh, very well,” said Philippa.  Penelope resumed.

“Her name is Amy Trout, and she is not as much of an old trout as  I thought, and was much gratified to have the chance of a rest, even if it is only relatively speaking.  Maribella is teething and Annabella is into everything, and wants to be with the older ones.  However she is more than capable of asking when she needs anything, so I may as well have four as three when out and about.  The ass, Boanerges, is more obliging than Philippa’s Rocinante, and Sir Henry has had baskets made to hang across him, like the drums of a drum major to pop tired little bells into. I forbore to draw comparisons to donkey bells.  I hope little voices will ring out in pleasure as they get over the loss of their mother and learn to have fun with less military precision than they are used to.”

“Really, one can hardly be less obliging than Rocinante,” said Felicity.

“Hold your tongue!  Rocinante is only disobliging to people she dislikes,” said Philippa.  “And it was entirely the fault of that pompous idiot who came to see how our school could be better than the one for which he is a trustee.  If he had not bent to peer into Eva O’Toole’s big hole in the ground, Rocinante would not have considered him so tempting a target to nudge him into it. His backside was big enough to be tempting to push.”

The other girls giggled.

“And he was so caught up trying to follow Eva’s extraordinary and so very Irish explanation of why there was a hole there, he was taken entirely aback as you might say,” said Cleo.

“I n-never followed why there was a hole there, myself,” said Penelope.

“It’s Eva O’Toole; you don’t expect a logical reason, do you?” said Philippa.

“It was logical to her,” said Felicity.  “She saw a rainbow and the foot of it was where she dug the hole, looking for leprechaun gold. Or possibly just leprechauns, I never unravelled that much of it.”

“Perfect sense,” said Philippa, with heavy irony.

“Am I going to finish r-reading this letter or are you going to b-bicker about Eva?” demanded Penelope.

“Sorry, Pen,” said Philippa.

“Anyway, I have volunteered now, and it will give Annabella a gentle introduction to  coming to me  for lessons when she is older.

Let me know all the news, and tell me about the new girl when she arrives; I heard a rumour she used to be best of enemies with Daisy but got better, which almost has to be seen to be believed.

Your loving friend,

Julia Spencer.

“Well, as the new girl is due tomorrow, you might as well write your first impressions and wait to reply until she is here,” said Philippa.

“You are lazy enough to p-procrastinate anything,” said Penelope. “I am going to tell her about the visitors.”

Swanley Court School for impoverished gentlewomen

Richmond –Upon-Thames

Surrey

Wednesday, 2^nd September 1812

Dear Julia,

I am glad to hear you arrived safely to a little carillon  of bells. And a real carry-on it might have been if you had had to deal with O’Tooles. 

We have had visitors; a trustee and a head preceptress from the school which gave Mr. Belvoir the initial idea that our school could not possibly be so good as it is. You have to give them  credit for coming to see for themselves, even if Miss Doolally or whatever her name was kept muttering about how easy it is to look  good if you pour money into something.  Philippa is reading over my shoulder and says her name was Golightly which is close enough for someone who whines about not having enough money and then turns down Mrs. MacFarlane’s generous offer to sink money into her school too. Jealous cat! And dog-in-the-manger, and now I have a sore ear, Philippa having pulled on it to tick me off for using words like ‘cat’ and ‘dog’ perjoratively  pejoratively. She’s good at spelling, anyway.  The trustee, a Mr. Pigeon, and he looked like a plump pouter-pigeon, came to grief, through the offices of Rocinante, in a hole where Eva was looking for leprechaun  gold.  However, he was moderately jolly about it, and he liked the idea of us having sundry animals to care for without being aware that most of them are Philippa’s fault.

The new girl is just arriving so I will write more anon.

Well, Julia, you were partly right about Lily being a close personal enemy of Daisy’s. Apparently Lily followed her sister’s lead in making fun of ‘the little cripple’ before Daisy came here.  And there’s more; their father was being used by a relative of Daisy’s to try to get his hands on what Daisy’s parents left her.  Lily said her eyes were much opened, and she grew up rather, and has come to us to escape her sister.  I have to say, Swanley Court would probably be good for Rosalie Daventry, but I am not sure she would be very good for Swanley Court, and Daisy promised Lily that she would ask if she might come to us, Lily that is, not her horrid sister. It is extraordinary that we, who have never met the phenomenal Daisy know so much about her, is it not? Having heard so many stories, I say with conviction that Daisy  has a streak of vindictiveness and would not have put herself out for a girl who made her childhood a misery if she had not seen something worth forgiving in Lily. She seems harmless enough so far, so we shall see. She has been put in  our room in your bed, and with much argument Cleo has been moved out. I’m not even sure why Cleo was with us anyway, she’s  a good two years younger than the twins who are younger than you, me or Lily, and Mrs. Belvoir (I am also finding it hard to overcome calling her ‘Miss Freemantle’) said we should have dormitories of four unless any of us older ones wanted to be in pairs.  As the twins don’t care I hastily declined being paired with an unknown quantity, and I like being with the twins in any case.  Hermione, Kitty, Hannah and Rachel are unchanged, and Cleo has gone to be a relatively stable quantity in the rather erratic dormitory consisting of Barbara, Eliza and Alice, and Eliza and Alice both  recently with us so they have less against Barbara.  Barbara is no end improved since she was adopted by Miss Tissot; Eliza and Alice would have no qualms about dressing as boys having both been accustomed to do so for different reasons.  Actually I cannot say that Cleo would not join them in that; the name of the Queen of the Nile is most inappropriate for her regardless of her having been born on board ship during the Battle of the Nile. 

Mrs. Belvoir has separated all the Baswin girls, mostly so Nancy has a chance to be herself without having the two younger ones hang on her (which one cannot fault them for in The Other Place) and so that Amanda does not transfer hanging on Nancy to hanging on Mimi. Nancy is now with Augusta and Georgiana  even though Georgie is a few months younger than Mimi.  It will do Georgie no harm to have to pull herself up to be with slightly older girls. Mimi is with Phoebe, Mary and the older new girl, Harriet, who is Daisy’s protégé.  There was some  near mutiny at breaking up Phoebe, Mary, Sarah and Emmie, but I think  myself it will be good for Mary not to have Sarah doing her thinking for her, for she is perfectly capable of thinking for herself.   Sarah and Emmie are with Amanda  Baswin and Amelia Walker; and the two school babies, outside of the school babies  like the O’Toole twins and downwards,  Jane and Eva, are in a room with Miss Tissot, and very wise that is. They are, after all, sprites of only six years old, and there’s a big difference between them and the real youngest pupils at eight. 

Later

I just had a chat with Lily and it seems she was frightened of Daisy’s disability because of a really stupid governess who assumed that if Daisy had a physical disability she must also be mentally afflicted, and – more than that – dangerous.  She left Lily at about six with a terror that Daisy would murder them all in their beds.  She acknowledges it now as foolish but she will have to overcome the fear.  I asked if I might tell you to make sure nobody told your little bells such foolishness.  I mean, imagine Frances creeping about killing people, poor girl!  I am glad that Mr. and Mrs. Belvoir are adopting her and have her in their own wing until their house is built. She will be happier.”

Penelope chewed on her pen, a new wooden pen holder with a steel nib, not a quill, and considered the offer Mr. Belvoir had made to adopt her too.  It was kind of them, but Penelope wanted to prove herself, not just be someone vulnerable who needed aid. Mr. Belvoir’s kindness in helping her discover an aptitude for horticulture had already allowed her to almost stop stuttering.  Reading aloud as suggested by Philippa had helped more.

And though it might be nice to have real parents, Penelope acknowledged that she needed them now no more than any of the others.  And it would be unfair.

Penelope was Lucius Belvoir’s favourite just because she hated unfairness, had she but known it!

She finished off,

“Well, I have written you a sufficient budget of news, I think, and I will let you know if I ever find out whether the pouter pigeon talked the Doolally woman into accepting financial aid.

Your loving friend,

Penelope.”

---

[1] See ‘Libby’s Luck’